


Nowhere At Nightfall

by TwisterMelody



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-27 12:18:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwisterMelody/pseuds/TwisterMelody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly and Lestrade get unexpectedly trapped together during an investigation. But, despite the situation, it may turn out to be not such a bad thing after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nowhere At Nightfall

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Let's Write Sherlock: Challenge 5!  
> Prompt: Choosing from the minor characters of Sherlock (this means any character other than Sherlock or John), place two or more in one of the following prompts:
> 
> 1.) Pretending to be a couple  
> 2.) Trapped somewhere waiting for rescue  
> 3.) Detectives in their own right

Greg Lestrade checked his mobile for the seventh time of the evening. The night was growing colder in the abandoned office building he was in, and with no electricity to light his way, it seemed to be getting impossibly darker. Seeing there were no messages awaiting him, he sighed and slipped his phone back into his jacket. A good look around revealed nothing new, so he made his way into the large storage room nearby. Long forgotten boxes were scattered and piled throughout, the dim glow of the city illuminating the room through the high windows.   
  
"Greg?"  
  
He whipped around in a flash, startled by the voice piercing through the silence. Before him stood Molly Hooper, giving him a soft smile from what he could tell.  
  
"Molly!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Oh, I um -" she cleared her throat and offered up the manila envelope she'd been holding. "Sherlock e-mailed me, said you needed these and asked if I could get them to you."  
  
He took the envelope, flipping through the autopsy information it held. "Yeah yeah, thank you," he said, looking back up to her. "But I was just expecting a text, you didn't have to bring this."  
  
"Oh no," she said, "this is on my way home so I thought I'd just pop in. It's no trouble, really."  
  
"How did you know where -" he stopped himself mid-sentence as the answer came to him. "Let me guess, Sherlock?"  
  
She nodded as he let out a laugh.  
  
"Well I -" he began, but was immediately cut off by a sound from the far end of the room. The sound of groaning hinges and the slam of a door filled his ears. He bounded past Molly towards the door, but the familiar click of a lock and fleeing footsteps against old tiling told him it was too late. He pulled on the damned thing anyway in some last ditch effort of hope, but no such luck. "Damn it," he muttered. He had spent two long days working on this case - with occasional texts from Sherlock and John - and the last thing he needed was to stranded in a storage room.  
  
"Bad news, I take it?"  
  
"Yeah," he said reluctantly as he walked back to where he was standing. "Probably a bunch of teenagers who can't find anything better to do on a Tuesday night." He smiled at her apologetically before pulling out his phone again. His battery had been drained to less than twenty percent and the room gave out no signal. "Do you have your mobile on you?"  
  
"No," she frowned, "it's in the shop getting repaired I'm afraid."  
  
"Right, then." Not having enough power or signal to make a call, he made a last ditch effort by shooting off a text of his whereabouts before shutting his phone down. At best, someone would be there within half an hour to get the both of them out. At worst, his co-workers would realize he was missing and they'd be found in the morning. He shoved his phone back into his pocket. "Might as well have a seat," he said, gesturing to the large boxes throughout the room. Here they were, the two of them stuck in what might as well be nowhere at nightfall. "We may be here a while."  
  
As it turned out, Lestrade was right. An hour passed by quickly as they sat opposite each other on different boxes, chatting on about different topics of all sorts. It was nice, really, to be in her company. Lestrade was a man dedicated to his work. In fact, it became the main focus in his life after he and his wife divorced months ago, and he was alright with that. But to just be in the company of someone else and let loose and smile without having to worry about any of that - it was refreshing, to say the least.  
  
The air got became colder with each passing minute, it seemed. The traces of their breath danced and evaporated before their eyes. Lestrade had held his arms folded to preserve heat. Molly, who was dressed in jeans, a blouse, and a light jacket, had let her hair down in an apparent hope to bring her some warmth. In the midst of their conversation, she began to shiver, but never once complained of the cold.   
  
"It's getting a bit nippy isn't it?" he asked.  
  
"A bit," she laughed in agreement. "Nights like this I usually don't have to worry, about the temperature that is."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"My cat," she explained, "he's a fluffy little thing. Likes to curl up next to me and keep me warm."  
  
"Here," he said as he stood and shrugged out of his jacket. He crossed the space between them and held it out to her in an offering. "I mean it's no cat, but it should do the trick."  
  
She glanced up at him cautiously. "Are you sure?"  
  
"'Course I am," he said. "I've dealt with weather much worse than this."  
  
She thanked him, shrugging the much-too-big jacket on her small frame. The sleeves were no doubt still warm from having his arms crossed, and more color seemed to come back to her cheeks after a few minutes.   
  
"You said you've been through worse?" she asked with curiosity edging at her voice.  
  
"Yeah," he replied as he rubbed the back of his neck. "A few years back we spent days out searching for clues in a bloody ice storm. Nearly fell through a half frozen pond, too," he recalled. "And then to top it all off, the minute I got home, the power cut out!"  
  
"That's awful," she replied in sympathy, but with a hint of a giggle at the end.  
  
"That was a miserable week. Was pretty certain I'd either get frostbite or turn into a human icicle at the time," he laughed.  
  
He went on and on about different cases he'd been on, and the unfortunate circumstances around them. Everything from the freezing cold, to lightning storms, to unbearable heat, he'd been through it all. It was what he loved to do, though. He wouldn't trade his job for the world, not even in the worst of times. The past couple of days had been turning into one of the bad times, but now... Now he was thinking otherwise. The conversation eventually turned.  
  
Molly began speaking of her own job, and some of the stranger things she'd seen over the years. Some were horrifying and others, while they were grim, were still a bit morbidly humorous in their own way. Through their experiences, they bonded and really got to know one another much more than they'd ever had the chance to before.  
  
"What got you into pathology?" he asked.  
  
"I'm not sure it was a certain thing," she admitted, furrowing her brow. "I've just always found the human body interesting, you know? I mean, when I was a girl, other children would be reading storybooks and I'd have my nose in a book about anatomy," she told him, pushing away hair from her face and smiling fondly.  
  
Her eyes shined with intense focus when she talked about what she loved. He noticed then just how beautiful her smile was, how it practically lit up the room when she spoke. But, he shoved those thoughts aside.  
  
"And the thought of autopsies, cutting into someone - that never made you nervous?"  
  
"Well, maybe a bit at first, when I was younger. But I got over it quickly when I realized it's what I wanted to do," she grinned. "Sometimes changes have to be made when you're passionate about something, and it turns out for the better."  
  
"I suppose you're right."  
  
"And you? Weren't you a bit scared at all about the position you're in?"  
  
The realization dawned on him that she had turned the tables and placed him in her shoes. "Yeah, but there's nothing I'd rather be doing," he beamed.  
  
"There's your answer then! It's all worth it in the end."  
  
"Yes," he agreed. "You're right, absolutely right." He glanced over at the files Molly had brought with her, left untouched since they'd been locked in. He picked up the folder and started flipping through the reports again. "Say," he began, "we're two intelligent people, here. Why don't we try and figure this out?"  
  
"You want my help?"  
  
"Of course!"  
  
Molly slid off of her box and perched herself next to him. The files had to be held at an angle to be read in the dimness of the room, and they skimmed through it together. Brainstorming back and forth, all of the pieces quickly began to fall into place.  
  
"So," Molly said, pointing out an injury in the file, "there's no way it could have been the sister, it had to have been the wife who did it!"  
  
"Molly, you're a star!" Lestrade exclaimed, putting his arm around her shoulders for a quick side hug. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her blushing at the compliment. "We make for a brilliant team!"  
  
They were interrupted by the sound of a click and door hinges swinging open. They both turned and saw Sally Donovan standing at in the doorway with a look of relief on her face. Lestrade and Molly wasted no time. They both slid off the box and bounded over to her.  
  
"Ah, Sergeant Donovan to the rescue," Lestrade said fondly, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
"Someone has to do it," Sally laughed. "The case, Sir -"   
  
"No," he said, stopping her. "Solved it already."  
  
"Oh?" she asked, crossing her arms, smiling smugly as she took in the surroundings. "From in here?"  
  
"Yes! Well, not by myself." He held up the manila envelope and gestured to Molly who smiled nervously and pulled his jacket closer around her. "Miss Hooper had a lot to do with it. I'll be by the Yard in a bit. But first I'd like to escort this brilliant woman home before she freezes to death." He paused, realizing he had no idea whether Molly wanted that or not. He turned to her, asking permission. "If that's alright with you?"  
  
Molly simply nodded.  
  
"Alright then. If you'll excuse us Donovan, we'll be on our way."  
  
"Yes, Sir," Sally nodded and turned to the exit of the building.  
  
The car ride to Molly's flat was pleasant. The car had warmed them both up, and they chatted nonstop along the way. Once there, Lestrade escorted her to the front entrance, the bright street lamps lighting up both of their faces in a warm way.  
  
"So," Molly said, turning to him, "the night didn't turn out so bad, for getting locked in a room for a couple of hours, that is."  
  
"Not bad at all," he chuckled.  
  
Silence fell upon them. Molly rocked on her heels, glancing up at Lestrade with her brown eyes nearly sparkling. He had thought about asking to see her again - outside of work, and outside of anything having to do with Sherlock - but the thought was fleeting. He had been married, after all, and hadn't really been looking at dating anyone else. Besides, he wasn't sure if she felt the same, and he had no intentions of making her uncomfortable. He shooed the thought away as it passed through his mind again.  
  
"Well I -"  
  
"I was -"  
  
They both paused and had a laugh, Lestrade gestured for her to go on.  
  
"I was wondering," she began, absentmindedly playing with the hem of the jacket, "would you like to do this again sometime? Not this, I -" she stammered for a moment. "Not getting trapped in the cold. But maybe go for a hot cup of coffee, perhaps?"  
  
Lestrade stood dazed for a moment before a warm smile spread over his face. "I'd like that very much," he answered. "And the hot coffee, of course, would come in handy if we _do_ happen to get trapped in the cold again," he joked.  
  
She giggled and stopped abruptly. "Oh!" She slipped his jacket off and handed it to him. "You'll be needing that."  
  
"Ah, thank you." He folded it over one arm.  
  
"Well, I'd better be getting in," she sighed as she headed towards the door.   
  
Lestrade walked along with her, and once there, he held the door open for her.  
  
"Thank you," she replied at the gesture.  
  
"No problem. Goodnight, Molly," he smiled.  
  
"Goodnight, Greg," She beamed. She gave him one last glance and disappeared behind the door.  
  
Lestrade let out a breath and watched it disappear up into the night air. He slipped on his warm jacket and headed back to his car, grinning happily as he thought over the events of the evening. Not a bad night after all.


End file.
